


Cede

by bgd_thrifty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Felching, Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgd_thrifty/pseuds/bgd_thrifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard being with someone who holds back from you and Draco has had enough on that score. He will not take, but Harry will give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cede

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the dracotops_harry fest. This follows the prompt very closely and as such is a terribly romantic take on quite the kink. I have thoroughly enjoyed every moment of writing and editing this fic and I hope you enjoy reading it. Thanks to paean_sf (who tightened this fic up like a corset) and ashe_frost for their great beta skills.

"No," Harry says grimly. His shoulders are hunched over and his body is angled away from Draco's.  
  
Draco knows he has pushed it too far. Again. But despite this, he cannot help himself from pursuing the issue. "Why not?"  
  
Harry is ignoring him; pulling his pants on and then his jeans. He looks around for his t-shirt, huffing with quiet anger when he doesn't find it. Draco knows it is under the bed – he threw it there, after all – but doesn't say anything.  
  
"Because it's disgusting."  
  
Each word is like a bullet and even though Draco knows Harry wants this as much as he does – has seen Harry writhing on four of his fingers, too scared to push further but wanting to so much – it hurts.  
  
"You think I'm disgusting," he says slowly and he knows Harry can hear the contempt in his voice.  
  
"What? Draco – _fuck_ , don't twist my words!" He's jumped up from the bed and is pacing the length of the room, small though it is. Draco didn't mind its claustrophobia inducing size last night. Everything he needs is – was – on this bed. Now he feels small and slightly dirty. He waits until Harry calms down and perches gingerly back on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Draco, I'm scared." The way he says it, Draco knows Harry thinks he means one thing. But Draco knows that truly, Harry doesn't fear the physical pain. He fears being _hurt_.  
  
"You're scared of finally going for what you want," Draco amends. He can see Harry's cheeks working as he grinds his teeth. Harry doesn't say anything; Draco knows it is because he cannot rebut Draco's words. Naked, he bridges the gap between Harry and himself on the cheap double bed. The springs squeak and Draco wonders if the walls are as thin as they look. "You're scared that I'm going to reach inside – right inside – you, and take that last part of you. That part you've been hiding from me. From everyone."  
  
Harry shivers, although the room is well-heated. He is staring at Draco's swaying cock, which is halfway to a full erection. It always is when he's around Harry.  
  
He reaches Harry and raises a palm to cup his face, bringing Harry's gaze upwards. Harry's mouth drops open. Draco wonders if Harry knows how amazing it feels to be the one to cause that expression on the Boy-Who-Lived's face. He can't possibly. Harry Potter doesn't understand his own worth, and it would break Draco's heart if he weren't so selfish. But as it is, Draco revels in the knowledge he will never have to share Harry. His hand runs down Harry's chest; abdomen, nails catching on the hairs that cover Harry's front. Draco never breaks eye contact and so he knows exactly when it is that Harry gives up; gives himself over to whatever Draco has in store for him. _You'll enjoy this,_ Draco promises in his mind. Harry is not a strong Legilimens, but Draco knows he understands.  
  
He unbuttons Harry's jeans once more and prompts Harry to remove them. He loves how malleable Harry is, how he takes an inch and Harry gives a mile. Already, Harry is pulling off his underwear again and Draco reminds himself to make awkward and inappropriate comments around Harry's friends. Maybe one of them will take pity on him and take him shopping. Draco is unable to do that for him, not as long as Harry remains terrified of public disapproval, but he has other ways to show him he cares. Like this.  
  
He grasps Harry's shoulders and pushes him backwards, leaning all of his weight on him; trapping him. He kneels between Harry's legs, spreading them wide with a quick movement of his knees. Harry stares up at him and Draco finally understands why the eyes are the gateway to the soul. Harry leans up to kiss him and Draco pulls away. No, that is not what this is today. Harry scowls and Draco smiles at him.  
  
"I'm so lucky," he says. He doesn't mean to verbalise it, it's rather sappy after all, but the light that shines in Harry's eyes makes him not care.  
  
"No, I am."  
  
Suddenly, Draco doesn't care about sappy or what this is supposed to be, and he kisses Harry softly. They've come so far to get to this point but they have a long way to go yet. The peeling wallpaper on the walls tells him so.  
  
He shifts positions, removing the weight of his body from Harry's torso. He ghosts one hand over Harry's filling cock and while the organ itself does not stir, Draco can see the minute contractions of Harry's abdominal muscles through the smooth skin. He marvels that Harry is actually, finally, letting him do this. This is happening.  
  
His hand descends lower and he presses one finger against the pucker of Harry's anus, just holding it there for a moment. They have done _this_ many times, but the anticipation of the new act leaves Harry tense and Draco panting. Harry whimpers. His hands clench into fists and convulse, as if he hasn't the strength to keep them closed.  
  
"Hush, Harry. You're over-thinking it." He touches his wand and whispers a spell, leaving his hand and midway up his forearm glistening with oil. Harry's breath hitches and that's what tells Draco that he's doing the right thing. He can see the saliva pooling in Harry's open mouth. A line of it drips out of the corner and Draco leans forward and kisses it away. He has to move back quite far before it snaps, leaving a tiny bubble where it began on Harry's pink mouth.  
  
He slides one finger in easily while Harry is distracted and pushes it in as far as he can go. Harry looks at him with a raised eyebrow and Draco snorts. Can he even feel this? Draco only begins to feel resistance again when he puts two more fingers in and Harry _rolls_ his back – that's the only way he can think to describe it – against the sheets and moans.  
  
His little finger goes in and he loses depth and manoeuvrability. His fingers nearly slip out and he can feel Harry pushing back. Draco can tell that Harry is trying. He touches his wand again and his fingers are wetter; slicker. They slide back into the inviting warmth, right up to the last knuckle. Draco twists his wrist around and uses his other hand to distribute the oil over the entirety of his hand.  
  
It is fascinating watching his pale fingers disappear into the pink cavern of Harry's insides. It thrills him to know that no one has seen this before him. Draco splays his fingers out to lie flat and the ring of muscle twitches spasmodically. Harry grinds down on his hand and Draco finds himself shoving his fingers in as deep as they will go – just so they will not slip out when he stretches up to sloppily nip and lick at Harry's mouth. Their teeth clack because they are both losing control, but Draco's hand binds them here. He is in deep, up to the junction of his thumb, and something solid thuds into place in his heart. This is where he _belongs_.  
  
Harry looks otherworldly. He pants heavily, his breaths laboured. Each inhale is sharp and Draco hears them stick in Harry's throat like daggers. His exhales are accompanied by full body shudders as Harry struggles to keep himself under control. He has pulled one muscular thigh all the way to his chest, holding it there tightly with a locked arm that quivers as he fights the urge to let go. The other leg lies bonelessly against the bed, exposing Harry fully to Draco's roving gaze. His cock lies fully hard now; heavy and red on his stomach. That reassures Draco. This is not for his own gratuitous pleasure.  
  
Draco sits back on his haunches and pulls his fingers out just enough that his thumb lies at the edge of Harry's sphincter. He notices that the nail looks a little ragged and spells it smooth. He isn't going to hurt Harry. Not now, not ever again. He begins to push, watching intently as millimetre by millimetre, his hand disappears into the grasping warmth. Everything zeroes in to this one little part of his anatomy becoming one with Harry. All Draco can see is red-flushed flesh. All Draco's world is skin that gleams with reflected light from the single bulb. Draco thinks this must be what being born is like, only in reverse.  
  
The knuckle of his thumb reaches the boundary, and apparently Harry has had enough, clamping down and nearly ejecting Draco from his rectum.  
  
"Harry, please let me in."  
  
They are so _close_ and Draco cannot imagine stopping now, not now that he knows how much they both need this.  
  
"I want to, I promise I want to, Draco. But I can't!" Harry says, his voice panicky and tight. Draco looks up and sees that Harry's eyes are screwed tight shut. That will not do. Harry's eyes are reservoirs of fire that Draco could burn in. Their absence leaves him cold.  
  
"Harry, I'm here," he says, his voice earnest but calm.  
  
"You're not, Draco. You're not here with me. I can't –" His voice cuts out and he shakes his head, wild hair flying everywhere against the stiff cotton pillowslips. Draco cannot take the anguish in his voice. Harry is doing this for both of them and Draco cannot believe how strong he is.  
  
"I'm with you, Harry," he says, lying down beside Harry, who is still on his back, although he has dropped his restrained limb. The positioning is awkward and he almost lets his hand slide free – Harry is worth more than this, despite anything Draco might have said to him – but Harry angles his pelvis to follow Draco's movement, desperate not to lose the connection. Fireworks burst in Draco's heart and mind and he cannot help the words from escaping.  
  
"I love you," he says. He has never said the words to Harry. Threads he has held back; that Harry has held back – are all unravelling now. In the next instance, Harry's eyes snap open and Draco's hand completes its journey. They both look down and Draco cannot believe the magic they have created together. The sight of his limb terminating so abruptly at the wrist excites him and he grins at Harry. Harry's eyes are dilated and he breathes slowly and deeply. A dark flush is suffusing his whole body, rising from the middle of his chest all the way across his pectorals and shoulders and starting to inch up his neck.  
  
 _That's me_ , Draco thinks. He has completed the last part of Harry's heart and that seeping colour is Harry's body coming fully alive for the first time in his life. He doesn't need to look down anymore. Slowly, Draco curls his hand into a fist, holding Harry's gaze. Harry begins to whine, and it is the most beautiful sound Draco has ever heard. His skin rubs against Harry's. Soft like velvet, but so strong, and all for him. Draco was raised to be selfish and spoiled. No present can surpass the one Harry has given him tonight.  
  
Draco makes a fist. He grabs a handful of hair at the nape of Harry's head and pulls Harry's head in towards his. He can feel pins and needles in that arm from its awkward position, but he doesn't care. Their hot breath mingles; their lips inches from each other's. He doesn't kiss Harry again but stares into his eyes, losing himself in those pools of green. The close proximity blurs his vision and he suddenly understands some of what it is to be Harry Potter. He wonders what Harry thinks when he looks into Draco's grey eyes. It doesn't matter. The proof of Harry's devotion is here.  
  
"I'm so full," Harry says, and his husky voice is loaded with amazement. Draco does not think _This is what I was missing out on_ , because it was never this particular act that truly mattered. Instead he thinks that he will finish this in the most perfect way, so Harry can never deny him again; can never look past him and pretend that they are not everything to each other.  
  
Draco does not blink. He squeezes his fist once and pushes, feeling something brush past the flats of his folded fingers. Harry gasps, his head thrown back as if he is struggling for air, and comes. His balls spasm, and come spurts weakly out of his cock. Draco isn't surprised. They've been in the hotel room for the best part of a day, and Draco is simply impressed that Harry has anything left inside him.  
  
It is, nonetheless, beautiful to behold. Draco knows that he is anchoring Harry here; knows that without him, Harry's heart might stop. He trembles uncontrollably and Draco strokes him, whispering gently.  
  
"Draco, ah – fuck!" He bears down on Draco's fist and holds himself there as he rides out the waves. Draco is so proud and he tells Harry so, although he doesn't think Harry hears him this time.  
  
Harry barely notices when Draco fucks him languidly afterwards, pulling Harry from where he lies on his back to face him. Harry lays his head against Draco's shoulder and simply breathes as Draco pulls Harry's leg over his hip, replacing his hand with his cock. Inhale, exhale. Draco is not sure whether Harry is in shock or resting. But he is reassured by Harry's weak moans when Draco licks the mess from his crack, holding Harry's cheeks apart to expose the loosened, flushed ring of muscle. The semen and oil does not make for a pleasant combination, but Harry has anointed it with his love; his _trust_ and Draco will not refuse the offering. This is magic.  
  
As they lie there in the aftermath, staring at the watermarks on the ceiling as dark turns to dawn, Harry rises on one quivering arm and the look on his face is nearly frightening.  
  
"Things are going to change, Draco." He has said this so many times before, but until now, Draco could never be sure he was telling the truth. He does not reply with _They will if I tell your little friends what I've been doing to their precious Saviour_ , because now is not the time for joking or reverting to their childhood taunts. He will not cheapen this.  
  
Instead, Draco says nothing. He cracks his neck, flexes his hand and pushes Harry's head down to lie on his chest. He wants Harry to feel just a _part_ of what Draco did just now. There is a light cramping in Draco's hand, but he ignores it. Just before he falls asleep, he feels a warm palm placed over his heart and hears Harry whisper, as if he can't believe it himself, " _You're with me._ " Draco murmurs in agreement before he is lost to darkness.  
  
When he wakes in the morning – the _real_ morning, Harry is still there. With him.


End file.
